Thinking of his Songbird
by Dillon
Summary: At a funeral, Bakura and Yami have a talk. Warnings for Bakura's opinion on Christian doctrine.


Title: Thinking of a songbird

Author: Dillon

Rating: PG?

Pairing(s): None, though implied Raphael/Varon

Original Characters: None, I don't think.

Type: _yaoi, yuri, het, etc._ Is 'Depressing as hell and possibly offensive' a type?

Status: _one-shot, Multi-part, Series, Arc_ not sure on this, either. It was intended to be part of a longer story, but kinda got away from me. May now be a one-shot.

Spoilers: I actually had to **locate** spoilers to write this. Other than the fact that Raphael, Rebecca, and Varon exist, no.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but some bootleg CDs, my muses, and the bit of prose attributed to Bakura.

Summary: At a funeral Bakura waxes poetic on religion. I'd be afraid if I were you.

WARNING! May possibly cause offense if you're a religious type! No insult intended, I was raised Christian, the thoughts attributed to Bakura, while identical to not my own, are pretty close. Read at your own discretion.

They met again at Rebecca's funeral. 

They'd all been surprised when Raphael started working with her, founding a games company that rivaled Kaiba Corp in a few short years. He'd seemed genuinely fond of her. Maybe she reminded him of his sister. 

Now here he was, the seemingly untouchable man reduced to tears, listening to the soft words of the minister, Another reminder of things long gone. Varon stroked his back softly, doing his best to comfort the bereaved man.. 

Somewhere in the back of the room, two spirits discussed the proceedings.

"I've never understood Christian rituals. They're so different from ours."

"Hmmph."

Yami scoffed. "Like you know anything about it. Why are you even here? You didn't know her beyond passing meetings at Kaiba Corp functions."

Bakura smirked "Not really sure. Maybe out of respect, or atonement for the disrespect I've shown the dead in the past? Or for the food."

Yami smirked. Bakura sighed.

"Anyway, I understand more than you might think."

Yami scoffed, again. "I'm sure."

Bakura smirked again. "I understand that you're here because your  
hikari can't handle it, but wants to be here, and you want to make  
him happy."  
  
  
Yami rolled his eyes. "Leave me alone, tomb robber. You don't belong  
here, and you're disrespecting the place by your presence."

Bakura frowned, and walked away to sit under a tree. He looked up sadly, the leaves tinting the sunlight green. Graveyards were a familiar place to him, like going home. Somehow, they always made him sad. He felt a stirring in his chest, and scowled.

(what do you want?)

)is it over yet?(

(No. The minister's still talking, then there's the eulogy.)

)oh.(

(I really don't want to be here, Ryou. I never liked funerals **alive**, they creep me out. Gives me uncomfortably guilt-like feelings.)

)please? I… I can't really handle it. She was so **young**. I.. I'm sorry, I want to cry.(

(::Sigh:: alright, alright. But if that irritating pharaoh bothers me again, I'm blaming you.)

)Thank you, Kage. You're better to me than anyone would believe.(

He felt a soft warmth in his chest, and knew his hikari was happy. He couldn't decide if he wanted to smile and enjoy it, or scowl and squash it. Finally he sighed, leaning back against the tree, watching a little bird in the branches. Silly little think, so bright and cheerful, in a place devoted to death. With a slight sight he relaxed into the warmth of the grass and the tree, listening to the soft drone of the priest's voice. He was young, with dark hair and nicotine-stained fingertips, disheveled but honest looking. He had a good voice, one that could carry you away on his words, make them come alive.

He was jolted from his reverie by a presence next to him.

"Yami, sit down or go away. You're blocking my sunlight and disrupting my peace."

Yami sat with a soft sigh. "Sorry."

Bakura cracked an eye. "The pharaoh, apologizing? Did that priest put me to sleep, or did Malik spike my drink again?"

Yami scowled, shifting uncomfortably. "You're awake, and Malik isn't even here. I'm just apologizing because I obviously hurt you, and while that carries with it a certain measure of pride, I feel bad because it seems you may actually have been **trying** to be nice. Therefore, you opened yourself to it and I exploited that, and it was cruel. I owed you an apology, and my damned hikari wouldn't stop bothering me until I gave it."

Bakura smirked a moment, and relaxed back. "Accepted. Now shut up and let me appreciate this. It's always better when he sounds like he cares."

Yami looked confused a moment, before remembering where they were. He listened a moment, and shook his head, muttering. "I still don't understand it."

Bakura sighed, and pondered a moment.

"It really started with a betrayal."

Yami looked confused again. 

"What?"

Bakura ignored him.

"A betrayal. 

The servant betrayed the master, and caused the pet's betrayal. 

The pets were sent from the only home they'd known, to survive in the wild.

Hospitable strangers, forced companions.

They procreated, out of desperation, knowing their children to be doomed to die.

The children were born to death, dying from their first birthday.

A son, and another. They grew. One was favored, the other shunned. 

The unloved son killed the other, causing himself to be further despised.

The camps grew. Familes spread, inbreeding of necessity, a cancer across the land.

Burning offerings to their betrayer, hoping to regain his love.

In time, different races, different tongues. 

They built a tower to touch the sky, to grow close, and were struck down.

No longer able to speak to each other, they became divided.

Divided, they became wary.

Some became masters, others slaves. 

The master chose which he would care for, and which he would stand against.

Many died. The masters were pleased.

Eons passed, the people rising and falling. 

They stepped away from the old ways, becoming closer to their nature.

They threw off the old rules, and were happy.

The servants have the power, but the masters will not fall.

Other masters arose, and those who should not gained the power to be.

The master was displeased, and stepped in again.

The great betrayer.

The world was flooded, only the chosen few could live.

Once again, the few became the many.

A savior arose, a bastard carpenter of Bethlehem.

He led a ragtag team of misfits and criminals in a daring mission of peace.

He was beautiful.

In the end, his beloved's kiss gave him to death.

A beautiful betrayal.

He was never forgiven.

The savior died a criminal's death.

And the lover died by his own hand.

The world never forgot either of them.

The savior is remembered with every death.

The lover is remembered to traitors."

Bakura trailed off, still unmoving, lying back in the sunlight.

Yami watched in awe, and swallowed.

"That was… how the **hell** did you know that?"

Bakura smirked.

"My hikari has a thing for world religions. I had nothing better to do."

Yami coughed slightly, and sat back against the tree, listening.

He couldn't understand the words, still, but really, he didn't need to.

End

For the record, this is entirely **Not** what I intended on writing. That seems to happen a lot lately. Sorry if I caused anyone any offense with this.


End file.
